


Stitched Together

by SciFiDVM



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt: Battlefield, Prompt: Pain, Prompt: Stitches, nbc_revolution 54 prompts in 54 days challenge, prompt: scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SciFiDVM/pseuds/SciFiDVM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass goes to Charlie for some help with an injury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aw Nuts

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of 500 word(ish) ficlets written for the nbc_revolution LJ 54 prompts in 54 days challenge.  
> Takes place post-episode 2x22. In this series I picture the Mathesons and friends working as mercenaries/private contractors for the Rangers, traveling from one Texan camp to another as needed. Charlie and Bass have struck up a bit of a friendship as they've been fighting the Patriots together.

“Hey, Charlie!” Monroe jogged up to her as she stepped out of her tent. She noticed a slight limp to his gait.

“The hell happened to you?” Was her only response. He’d better have a good reason to stop her on her way to breakfast.

He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back into her tent, following immediately behind. He dropped the flap before asking almost nervously “You any good at sewing?”

Charlie looked at him like he’d sprouted an extra head.

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “Miles and I ran into a bit of trouble last night looking for that hidden Patriot sleeper cell we heard about in the next town. I took a hit.”

“And that has what to do with my sewing ability?” He was acting weird and she was getting impatient.

The words spilled out of his mouth so fast she couldn’t make sense of them. “Theshotgrazedmynutsandthere’snowayI’mgoingtoyourmomorgrandfatherforstitchesdownthere.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Did you just say that you got shot in the nuts?” She tried valiantly to not start laughing and only partially succeeded.

“Grazed.” He corrected, his hand subconsciously cupping the injured area and then being quickly drawn away with a hiss of discomfort.

Her attempts to stifle her laughter failed completely. Between rails of laughter she barely squeaked out, “Oh my God… This is… the most ironic thing I’ve ever…”

“Yeah, laugh it up. You’re making jokes, and I’m in real pain.” He sneered at her. “I came to you because I thought we were friends.”

“You think of me as the kind of friend that will sew up your nuts?”

“Yes?”

She wasn’t sure if it was sweet or disturbing. Certain that she would live to regret this, she sighed and glowered at him. “You owe me, Monroe.”

“Thank you!” He gave her cheek an exaggerated kiss. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Then he darted out of the tent.

“What? Where are you…” She was so confused.

“Anesthesia!” was his only response.

Fifteen minutes later he staggered back into her tent, a half empty liquor bottle in his hand as he sat down on her cot and started unbuckling his belt.

“No way I’m gonna be conscious for this.” Was his slurred response as he took a few more gulps.

If only she had that option, Charlie thought.

She busied herself readying the needle and thread as he discarded his pants and laid back. She only turned around when she heard him start softly snoring.

…..

Bass woke later, pants-less under a blanket on a cot in an unfamiliar tent, his head and his junk aching. He saw Charlie sitting across the tent and remembered. He lifted the blanket and inspected her work. It would do.

“Everything… ok down there?” He asked.

“Best I could tell.” She shrugged.

Silence drug out. Fuck, this was awkward. Someone needed to say something…

“…Wanna test out your handiwork?”

His pants hit him in the face as she stormed out of the tent.


	2. In Stitches

“Hold still.” Charlie griped.

“I’ll hold still if you stop making it so damn painful.” Bass shot back.

“Seriously? Who knew the great Sebastian Monroe was such a baby when it comes to getting a couple stitches?”

“I’m not a baby. You’re just horrible at this.”

“Then why are you here?” Charlie asked.

“I weighed my options, and this seemed like the one least likely to end up with me dead or castrated.”

Charlie rolled her eyes at him. “I get you not wanting my mom or my grandpa to be the one to stitch up your leg, but what about that Ranger medic chick? I thought she was into you.”

“Yeah… about that.”

“Really Bass? We’ve only been stationed at this camp for two weeks. How many of the female officers have you already… wait. I don’t want to know.”

He was already apparently doing some mental calculations. “We’ve been here fourteen days… that’s thirteen nights… so a different one each night except for that one… and then there was the one that had a sister…”

Charlie tugged a little more firmly than necessary on the suture she was tying.

“Ow! Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Do you even know who you’re doing anymore?” She shot back.

He grinned at her. “Jealous?”

“Try disgusted. Even if I weren’t stitching you up, I probably wouldn’t touch you without latex gloves at this point.”

He broke out into a real fit of laughter that filled the small tent. “You do realize that I’m just fucking with you, right?”

She shot him a disbelieving glare.

“Seriously. I’m too old for that shit anymore. With all the work Blanchard keeps sending me and Miles, I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten that we’re mercenaries, and not his best whores to pimp out every night. I’m actually too exhausted to be chasing tail. Who could have seen that one coming, huh?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“No pun intended.”

Charlie just shook her head.

“I’m serious.” He flashed her one of his smiles with the dimples that she had no doubt usually melted anything with two X chromosomes. “That medic, her name is Erin, by the way, is pissed at me because I shot her down. It seems she’s insulted that President Monroe isn’t up for taking her for a ride on Air Force One, if you know what I mean.”

“I actually have no clue what you just said, but I get the idea.” Charlie trimmed the ends on the last suture along his inner thigh and inspected her handiwork. Not perfect, but she was getting better.

He pulled his pants back up as she discarded her gloves.

“You know you’re the only girl for me these days.” He kissed the top of her head before heading out for his next assignment.

Their newly formed friendship had caught her off-guard, and as wrong as she knew it was, for just a moment she let herself hope he meant what he’d just said.

 


	3. Chics dig scars

“I’m starting to think you‘re getting hurt on purpose.” Charlie gave Bass a sly grin as he peeled his torn and blood soaked shirt off. He grimaced as he pulled it over his head.

“I’m not that masochistic.” His voice was muffled and nasal-y due to the cotton shoved up both his nostrils to staunch the hemorrhage from his bloody nose.

The six inch gash under his right pectoral muscle needed stitches. “Chicks dig scars.” She replied.

“Must be why I’m ir-fucking-resistable.” He sat on the edge of her cot. “And this is pretty sexy too.” He pointed at the gauze in his nose. Despite the distortion from his nasal packing, his voice had been dripping with sarcasm. True to his previous comments, he had remained so busy working with and fighting alongside Miles at Blanchard’s express request, that it had been ages since he’d gotten laid. After turning down every advance at the first few camps where they were staying, word got around and offers dried up. Charlie was truly the only woman he’d taken his pants off for in months. He tried to sigh, but the cotton nose plugs felt like they were suffocating him. They’d been in place long enough. He yanked them out, throwing them to the floor, and started to lean back so she could get to work.

Charlie chuckled, but stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You gotta keep your head above your heart or your nose’ll start bleeding again.”

He sat back up. She handed him a bottle, letting him take a long swig out of it before she poured some of the liquor on a cloth and dabbed at the wound. Because he couldn’t lie down, she had to sit nearly in his lap the have good access to the laceration. This time he didn’t so much as flinch as she stitched the torn skin back together.

Finished, her hand resting next to the wound on his chest, she looked proudly at the professional caliber row of stitches. When she looked up to get his approval, he was staring at her hungrily. Maybe this would be the day that they finally stopped dancing around whatever had slowly built up between them the past few months.

“Looks good.” He said, only peripherally glancing at the stitches.

“Probably won’t even leave a scar.” She offered breathlessly.

“Shame. I hear women find them attractive.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I happen to know that you have plenty others to make up for it.” She returned his challenge.

He leaned in and whispered roughly in her ear, “Maybe you should check on some of the ones you fixed. See how they healed.”

“Like this one?” She grazed her fingertips along the inside of the very uppermost portion of his left thigh.

She heard his breath hitch against her ear and his body tensed.

“And maybe this one.” He pressed her hand firmly against the bulge in the front of his pants.

TBC...


	4. Holding Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the previous chapter...

“Maybe I should take a look.” She let her lips graze against his earlobe as she spoke.

As her hands moved to start working his belt buckle, he grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her. His mouth was needy and aggressive against hers, and she returned the sentiments in kind.

They violently set upon each other. Clothes were heedlessly torn and pulled from limbs as they hit the cot together. When their naked bodies met it was like two forces of nature colliding. Battlefield or bedroom, they only knew one way to exist together – violently. Finger tips dug into flesh to the point of leaving bruises, nails scraped new linear wounds over old scars, and needy mouths with nipping teeth assaulted anything they could latch onto as he worked his way deeper and deeper into her.

“That all you got, Monroe?” Charlie taunted from her back as he drove into her. Neither would ever willingly cede the upper hand each thought they held.

“You sure you can handle more, Charlotte?” He snarked as he looked down at her writhing beneath him, and he kissed her before she could reply.

When they finally pulled their mouths apart and looked at each other, the pretense had been dropped. He was throbbing inside her, the physical sensation only outweighed by the emotional implications of what they were doing. They were two of the most fucked up people they knew now thoroughly engaged in the most fucked up response to each other that could be imagined. And yet, in the midst of how wrong everything about the situation was, there was something that felt inexplicably right.

“Don’t hold back.” Her voice was breathless between his thrusts. “Not with me.”

And there is was. Why they worked. Where else were the two of them, as broken and jaded as they were, going to find this kind of acceptance and trust?

“Careful what you wish for.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You know me. When am I ever careful about anything?” She taunted back, the look in her eyes alluding that she knew he wasn’t just talking about his sexual tenacity.

“Good point.” He grinned mischievously before pulling her legs up to hold her ankles just behind his ears as he pounded into her.

Neither of them made an attempt to stay quiet and the whole camp likely knew what they were doing before she clamped down around him and he barely managed to pull out of her and come against the inside of her thigh. Drained, he dropped her legs and collapsed on top of her.

She smiled at him and reached across to where his head was lying next to hers on her pillow. With the pad of her thumb she wiped away the small trickle of blood that had restarted seeping from his nostril. “You should be more careful.”

“Careful’s never really been my thing either.” He rolled them over on the cot so that he wasn’t crushing her beneath him. With him on his back and her resting her head on his chest he clung to her and let his fingers trace meaningless patterns on her shoulder blades.

“I’m kinda glad we’re both idiots.” She smiled and ran her fingers along the stitches she’d worked so hard on earlier. A couple of them would have to be replaced whenever they got up, but that wouldn’t be for a while. Maybe he would end up with that scar he wanted after all.


End file.
